‘Right,’ Lauren agreed. ‘And we just talked to Bjarni. He said Helga tipped him off we were coming, which makes no sense. He’s got an alibi for Gunnar’s murder that we still have to check out, but I don’t think he’s our guy.’
‘Which brings us right back to Ragnar,’ Matt said.
‘It’s possible he was in his office the whole time and Helga was protecting him,’ Lauren said. ‘For a supposedly innocent man, he sure is making himself look like a suspect.’
‘I don’t trust a word out of Bjarni’s mouth,’ Berg said, his red hair even more fiery under the bright florescent lighting. ‘I want to go back to Ragnar’s house. This time check to see if he’s holed up in there.’
‘Freyja will just protect him,’ Lauren countered.
‘Guys?’ Matt said, making Lauren and Berg focus on him again. ‘I know I just had surgery a couple hours ago and my mind is still in a fog, but we were focusing on people close to Ragnar and they’ve circled the wagons. Maybe you should talk to the one person who doesn’t have a personal stake with Ragnar in any of this.’
Berg’s eyebrows drew together in a questioning V. ‘Who?’
A wave of pain hit Matt, causing his whole body to go rigid and tense up. It took a second to pass and then he let out a staggered breath. ‘The ex-boyfriend Jakob told us about. I think you should talk to him.’
THIRTY-SEVEN
Berg had to squint at the piece of paper Jakob had scribbled on for a minute before he was confident he knew where he was going. Stefan Johansson lived in a trendy neighborhood near the university, close to all the best bars and restaurants, Berg told Lauren. His flat was located in a very modern apartment complex complete with underground parking. ‘This place is a great mixture of students and young professionals,’ he said as they pulled up. ‘This is a very sought-after neighborhood. Close to everything. My niece lived on the next street over while she was going to the university.’
‘Shouldn’t Stefan be at work?’ Lauren asked.
‘This close to Christmas,’ Berg ran his fingers through his crimson curls in the rearview mirror, trying to make himself look presentable, ‘most non-service businesses are closed. When I ran his name, the computer said he works for a software company now, so we should be in luck.’
The lobby of this building was very different from Freyja and Ragnar’s waterfront high-rise. Twenty-somethings were hanging out in the lobby, talking and laughing. One had a very handsome-looking dog on a leash, who sat obediently at his heel while his owner carried on a conversation with a pretty brunette in a business suit, parka and snow boots.
‘This is an Icelandic sheepdog,’ Berg said, bending over to pet him. The couple stopped chatting and the man exchanged a few words with Berg. Lauren knelt down, let the tan-and-white dog sniff her hand, then scratched him behind his ear. It wasn’t a big dog, maybe twenty-five pounds, but he was thick and muscular with a tail that curled over his back.
‘We had one named Thor until three years ago,’ Berg said straightening up. They headed for the stairwell. ‘I loved that dog. When he died, I just couldn’t bring myself to get another one, even though Elin begs me.’
‘I have a dog,’ Lauren offered, then immediately backtracked. ‘Actually, Watson is my partner’s dog, but he’s living in my house with us.’
Berg raised an eyebrow as they tackled the first landing. ‘Sharing a dog together is a big commitment.’
‘Don’t read into it,’ she said, pushing the door open to the second floor. ‘It was a package deal when he moved in.’
‘And yet you think it’s your dog … together. Interesting.’
She felt her mouth pull into a straight line. The smirk on his face was infuriating.
Apartment 233 was almost right in front of them when they stepped out of the stairwell. ‘Don’t read into it,’ she repeated, straightening her brown parka. ‘Stay focused.’
‘I am focused.’ His mischievous grin was still there, teasing her. ‘I just didn’t know it was so easy to get a rise out of you.’
Instead of a nailed-on number, 233 was painted in fancy gold script. Berg gave his signature three knocks and they waited in silence, Berg smirking and Lauren trying not to appear annoyed at him.
The door swung inward, revealing a tall, thin man with square brown glasses, a blond beard and short, close-cropped hair. He greeted them with what sounded to Lauren like ‘golden dying?’ but what she had come to realize was Icelandic for ‘good morning’. Berg pulled out his identification and held it up while responding in his usual manner. ‘Please, friend, my colleague here only speaks English.’
Stefan smiled, almost like he was embarrassed, but warmly. ‘My apologies. I heard what happened to Gunnar. I assume that’s what this is about.’
‘Can we come in?’ Lauren asked.
He swept his hand behind him and they moved into his apartment. Unlike the other homes she’d been in, Stefan’s did not adhere to the traditional décor in Iceland. The apartment was decorated in bright reds and blues. Black-framed jazz posters filled his walls along with abstract art. His living room couch and chairs were also blacked-framed with brightly colored throw pillows. A huge flat-screen smart TV hung over a gas fireplace, next to which was a funky silver Christmas tree decorated with round gold bulbs. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, making Lauren’s stomach rumble.
Maybe he heard the growl, or maybe he was just as kind and sensitive as he appeared to be, but Stefan leaned over, touched Lauren’s arm and asked, ‘Can I get you something? A cup of coffee? Anything?’
‘I’d love coffee,’ she replied, letting her guard down for an instant.
He pulled his hand away, asking Berg, ‘And you?’
‘I’ll take a cup as well.’
‘Have a seat.’ Stefan gestured to the couch. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Normally, Lauren’s instinct would have been to watch him go make the coffee, suspicious he was leaving the room, suspicious he’d do something to her drink. This man seemed to radiate kindness. Nothing in his demeanor put her on guard, so Lauren merely watched as he disappeared into the kitchen. She could hear him singing as they sat down on his funky modern sofa.
Berg’s coat flapped open as he sank into the cushions. ‘This thing is too mushy for me,’ he complained, trying to sit himself up.
‘It’s a beautiful place,’ Lauren commented, pleased that he was uncomfortable. Her eyes wandered over to a sculpture in the corner that appeared to be bundles of branches made out of concrete and steel.
Before he could reply, Stefan appeared, carrying a metal tray with a bone-colored ceramic coffee service on it, including a creamer and sugar bowl. He placed the tray on the glass coffee table, picked up his own cup, and settled himself into a lounge chair. ‘I’ve honestly been hoping you’d show up. I thought about going to the police station, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.’ His voice cracked a little with emotion.
‘Why did you want to come to the police station?’ Berg asked, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him, giving Stefan his full attention.
Wiping his eye with one hand, he choked back tears. ‘Because I wanted answers. I heard what happened to Gunnar and I wanted to know how someone could harm such a caring, loving soul.’ Tears flowed freely down his cheeks. ‘He was a good man. A gentle man. He didn’t deserve this.’
‘Do you have any idea who may have wanted to hurt Gunnar?’ Lauren asked.
That question seemed to confuse him. ‘I thought it was a street crime. I thought it was some random robbery. That you were here to tell me …’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what I thought you were here to tell me. I didn’t think I had anything I could tell you.’
‘Did you stay in contact with Gunnar after the two of you broke up?’ Lauren asked, lowering her voice a notch.
Stefan set his coffee mug on the floor and rubbed both of his eyes with the heels of his hands. Taking a deep breath, he managed, ‘It was an
amicable break-up. The relationship just ran its course. We still texted each other and met for coffee once in a while. Then I met my current partner, Olaf, and Gunnar was so happy for me.’ He pointed to a picture above the fireplace on the mantle. ‘Oli just ran out to get some things to make dinner. He’s part owner of a fitness gym. Tonight is his only night off this week.’
‘Did Gunnar ever talk about his relationship with his boss?’ Lauren asked.
Stefan seemed puzzled by the question. ‘Of course, he did. They were in love. Deeply in love. Haven’t you talked to Ragnar?’
Berg’s eyes widened. It was the first confirmation they’d gotten that there even had been a relationship. ‘No,’ Berg said. ‘He seems to be busy every time we come around.’
‘Did you go by his house in the Shadow District?’
‘Yes, we did,’ Lauren told Stefan. ‘We spoke to Ragnar’s wife.’
Stefan nodded his head. ‘That’s explains it. The last time I spoke to Gunnar on the phone, he and Ragnar were going to the States in a few days. Gunnar finally found his birth father and Freyja had just learned of their affair. Ragnar’s ex-lover had called her up and told her everything.’
‘Ragnar’s ex-lover?’ Lauren asked, trying to keep the disbelief out of her voice.
‘Bjarni.’ Stefan’s handsome face screwed up at the mention of the name. ‘Ragnar fired him and broke his heart. Bjarni blamed Gunnar for his and Ragnar’s break-up. He tried everything to win Ragnar back and when that didn’t work, he resorted to calling Freyja up and revealing the affair.’
Berg and Lauren both sat in stunned silence for a moment. Lauren was used to being lied to. She got lied to by suspects every time she stepped foot in the interview room. She got lied to when she asked suspects what time it was. She didn’t expect two people who appeared to have nothing at all to gain by lying to do it. Yet Bjarni lied about leaving on good terms and Freyja never mentioned Bjarni’s phone call. The only thing that made sense was that they were lying to protect Ragnar. Freyja because she wanted to keep her husband and Bjarni because Ragnar was now free to pursue their affair.
‘I think we need to talk to Freyja again.’ Lauren’s tone had turned grim with the revelation.
‘Did Gunnar’s brother Jakob know about his relationship with Ragnar?’ Berg asked, not bothering to reply to Lauren’s obvious observation.
‘No. He was afraid his brother wouldn’t approve of him being involved with a married man, especially his boss. I think that’s why he rang me up in the first place to tell me about it. He wanted someone to know he was in love, with no judgments attached. He wanted to share how happy he was that he finally found his father and someone to spend his life with.’
‘Is there anything else you think we should know?’ Berg asked.
Stefan looked around the room, as if trying to pull the right words, words that wouldn’t come to him, out of the air. Finally he said, ‘I know Ragnar is worth millions. But it’s his wife’s millions, from her family business. If she cut him off, he’d have nothing.’
THIRTY-EIGHT
‘Well, that takes our investigation down a different path,’ Berg said as he sipped a beer. They’d stopped at a local restaurant a few blocks over. Berg had pointed out to Lauren it was after six o’clock, they didn’t actually have a clock they had to punch and they both needed to eat and drink. The hostess, who knew Berg by name, had seated them at a table that overlooked the street. Looming in the darkening sky was the illuminated steeple of a strangely ominous-looking church Lauren had noticed during their drive downtown the day before. ‘You see that?’ Berg had said as they cautiously crossed the road. ‘That’s Hallgrímskirkja Church. If you use that as a landmark downtown, you’ll never get lost.’
‘It’s actually the path we were on to begin with,’ Lauren corrected, salting her broiled fish. ‘I suspected Ragnar from the start, but I always try to gather all the evidence I can before I make a conclusion. Unfortunately, my evidence fled the country and here I am.’
The interior of the restaurant was dimly lit with fancy tea light candles placed on every table and a huge Advent wreath on the wall. Every seat in the house was taken, full of people talking and laughing, shopping bags piled at their feet, enjoying the holiday season. Over the sound system Christmas music played, but it wasn’t anything Lauren recognized. Maybe it isn’t even Christmas music, maybe Icelanders like to put the sleigh bells in their compositions, she thought. Even being used to the snow and the temperatures, I am so out of my element here. I feel like they shipped me to another planet.
‘I know you like plans, so how about this one: we get up early, go sit on Ragnar’s house, like you Yankees seem to like to do, and see if he slips up and comes home. I have a patrol crew sitting on the complex now, but maybe if we send them away, he’ll think we’ve given up and show himself.’
‘Can we stop and see Matt first?’
Berg swallowed a huge piece of red meat and immediately shoveled in another. ‘I don’t see why not,’ he said, chewing with his mouth open. Lauren had an urge to call Reese and tell him she’d met his soul mate in Iceland. ‘And if we see Ragnar, he’s coming down to the station with us.’
Lauren carefully sawed into a small piece of steak with her knife. She had ordered the fish and beef special, forgetting about her damaged hands. ‘Like you said, we’re on an island. There’s only so many places to go.’
‘I’ve got the word out at the airports. If he uses one of his ships, we’re out of luck, but no one ever leaves Iceland forever. Have you ever met an American citizen who emigrated from Iceland? I’m sure they exist, like your bigfoots, but I’ve never known one. Everyone comes back, sooner or later.’
‘Can I get you more drinks, Berg?’ The young waiter had been happy when the hostess sat them in his section and had been especially attentive since they came in. Lauren figured Berg must be a good tipper. She fingered the money in her pocket she hadn’t had a chance to spend yet and tried to remember if Iceland was one of those places where you weren’t expected to tip.
‘Two more beers.’ He raised an eyebrow to Lauren. ‘You could use a beer, yes?’
‘Yes.’ Lauren smiled and lifted her water glass in a cheer. Berg clinked his empty beer bottle to it. ‘I also approve of your plan.’
THIRTY-NINE
Pulling the hotel bed covers up to her chin, Lauren dialed Reese’s cellphone. The alarm clock on the nightstand said it was only nine o’clock, but that only made it four in the afternoon back home in Buffalo. The phone rang until it went to voicemail.
‘Hi, this is Shane Reese. Leave a message.’
Clean, clear and simple. Just like his brain, she would have joked if he were with her. ‘Hey, Reese, it’s me. Just checking in with you. Anyway, I’m good. The investigation has finally picked up some traction over here, I think.’ And there are a million ideas I want to bounce off you, she wanted to say, but held her tongue. ‘Take care of Watson. I’ll try to call you tomorrow, if I have a chance.’
She hit the END button and put the phone face down on the nightstand. Reese was probably napping. Or maybe getting ready for a hot date. It shouldn’t matter why he hadn’t picked up, but it did, more than a little.
She wished she had brought her sleeping pills with her. She’d been afraid to bring them on the plane. Afraid some TSA agent would have pulled them out of her purse, held them up and asked, ‘Are these prescribed to you? Pretty heavy duty, aren’t they?’ She’d been afraid to stash them in her luggage for fear it got lost, only to be found and opened. She wanted to keep that dirty little secret to herself. She told herself there was no shame in needing medicine, but anyone on the police department would say she couldn’t handle her shit. Or that she was crazy and that’s why crazy things were always happening to her. They would blame her. It wasn’t fair, but she had made the choice to do without it rather than risk being labeled, like so many people did every day for different reasons.
She folded the covers back and went to the wi
ndow. She’d remembered to pull the heavy blackout shades across the glass earlier, like Berg had told her, even though it had still been dark every morning she had gotten up since she’d been there. Now she pushed them aside and looked out at the night sky. The harbor front was lit up with boats and buildings and the road that snaked along the water was dotted with the headlights of passing cars.
She searched the sky for the Northern Lights but it was cloudy. Not even the moon was visible.
She slipped back under the covers and stared at the ceiling. Sleep was going to elude her, she knew. But at least she wouldn’t have any nightmares.
FORTY
‘Freyja packed up the white Skoda Octavia and left the penthouse in the middle of the night,’ Berg told Lauren as soon as she got into his police car. It was different from the one he’d been driving since she arrived. He’d told her the night before he was going to switch. He didn’t want to tip Ragnar off in case he had people watching them. ‘I got a call from the patrol unit watching the house last night. They wanted to know if they should follow her.’
‘What did you tell them?’ Lauren asked.
‘I told them to keep watching the apartment. If Freyja had the Skoda that means that Ragnar came back to the penthouse after we stopped at his office. The officers said she was upset and crying. He must have slipped into the underground parking lot before I sent a patrol car to watch the premises. So he’s been holed up there all this time.’
‘What do you want to do? Go and grab him out of the apartment?’
‘That’s what I want to do. But you Americans have all those Miranda warnings and possible cause—’
‘Probable cause,’ she corrected.
‘Yes. That.’ He shook his head as he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other fiddling with the computer on his dash. ‘No. We can knock all day long, but we don’t have a warrant and we don’t have enough evidence to get one. We need to put Ragnar in the car that hit Matt. That’s the only way to force his hand.’
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